


The Rites of May Day

by Amorous_Flammetta



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Costumes, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Pagan Festivals, Porn, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, Thank you for my pornography, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-07 21:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorous_Flammetta/pseuds/Amorous_Flammetta
Summary: Crowley plans a special trip for he and Aziraphale to celebrate May Day in the old pagan tradition... With costumes, music, mead, dancing and rituals!After reveling into the night at the May Day celebration, the Ineffable Husbands return to their rental cottage for a night of explicit erotic fun (role play and dirty talk included)... After all, a little pagan idolatry never hurt anybody.





	The Rites of May Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again all,  
So, this one was inspired by a viewing of The Wicker Man (1973). The portrayal of rites and rituals in the film were really inspiring, so naturally I had to have the Ineffable Husbands go to a May Day festival.  
I do hope you all enjoy the festivities and what comes after...  
Sordidly yours,  
Amorous Flammetta

“My dear, I’m back from picking up the wi – oh!” Aziraphale called softly, before finding Crowley in front of the bathroom mirror.

He more surprised to find Crowley with long red hair licking at his shoulder blades. He appeared to be carefully un-braiding some locks at the front. He had his back to the angel, but looked up to meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“Hi, angel,” he said rather blandly, betraying the smile on his face. He shook out his loosed hair lightly.

“Oh, hello, dear,” Aziraphale said, slightly off-kilter.

“What’s the matter?” Crowley asked, turning around to face his partner.

“Ah, nothing,” the angel replied, “I just wasn’t expecting to come back from the chemist’s to find you with such long beautiful hair.”

Crowley smiled, stepping forward into the angel’s space. He gently held Aziraphale by the elbows, feeling the angel’s soft belly push against his torso. Aziraphale looked up at him in helpless awe, marveling at his sharp lines and suggestive grin.

“I thought it would be appropriate for our trip,” the demon murmured seductively.

“Yes, I _do_ wish you would tell me where we’re going, dear,” Aziraphale said, looking up into knowing golden eyes.

“Oh, the surprise is half the fun,” Crowley drawled, looming over him, “Now be a good little angel and run along to bed. We’ll be up early in the morning, you know. It’s a bit of a drive.”

“I know, but I wish you’d tell me _something_,” Aziraphale huffed, fixing Crowley with a wanting gaze and an almost-imperceptible tremble of his lower lip.

“Not gonna work this time, angel,” Crowley said, leaning down to give him a peck on the lips, “My lips are sealed until we get there.”

“But I don’t know what I need to pack!” Aziraphale exclaimed, whirling around as the demon breezed casually past him, feeling the momentary brush of his loose black linen shirt.

“Now, I already told you. Pack a few changes of clothes, _one_ book, maximum _two_, your toiletries. Everything else is covered,” Crowley said, before looking over his shoulder, “I’ve gone to great pains to get all of the, ah, specialized items.”

With that, Crowley gave a wicked grin and whisked out of the hall, laughing as he went. He was headed toward the little kitchen on the second floor of the bookshop. Hot cocoa would settle the angel down, that he knew for sure. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called behind him, “You’re terrible!”

“I know! And you love it! Crowley called back, laughing louder.

They settled in for cocoa and turned in early, Crowley fast asleep on his side, Aziraphale on his back. He read for a handful of hours before succumbing to the doze. He reached out and ran one hand gently over Crowley’s coppery curls and sighed.

_He’s so well-behaved when he’s sleeping,_ the angel thought with a soft smile before turning out the light.

The following morning, they were up well before the sun, having thrown their luggage into the back of the Bentley, taking off to their destination. Crowley’s bag was a sleek, structured black leather affair. Aziraphale had packed a small antique trunk, brown wood and brass fittings.

Aziraphale had been intensely curious for the past few weeks, as Crowley had seemingly out of the blue decided they needed a weekend away, and had taken it upon himself to plan the entire thing in secret. Beyond curious, the angel might have also been a bit frightened. This would be their first trip together, as a couple, and try as he might, no amount of sad puppy eyes could coax a single clue out of the demon. Knowing Crowley, this trip clearly could involve anything.

They drove along in relative silence, the radio churning out classical hits such as Tchaikovsky’s “Who Needs You?” and Rimsky-Korsakov’s “It’s Late.” Aziraphale watched as the city gave way to the countryside as the sun began to peek over the horizon. He knew they were headed north, and that was about all.

Crowley had managed to stay shockingly tight-lipped about the whole affair. He couldn’t resist dropping teasing little hints here and there, but he was certain that his angel was burning with curiosity. This made Crowley a very happy demon.

The sun was still low in the sky when Crowley swung the Bentley into an unsuspecting village. He miracled the headlights to dim slightly on the Bentley, as it was still early. To his right, he spied it. The maypole, in all its glory. This was the place. He focused his bright eyes until he found the house number of the charming little cottage he’d rented.

“This is it?” Aziraphale asked excitedly, charmed by the picturesque little dwelling in the lovely little village.

“Yep, this is it, alright,” Crowley replied, pulling up the cobbled drive and clicking off the engine.

They loaded their bags inside, Crowley having found the key in the letterbox, as instructed. Aziraphale immediately lit the stove for a cup of tea. He was delighted by the rustic setting. He twittered around the kitchen, commenting on the _precious_ handmade pot holders, the _charming_ straw hat hung on a hook, the _positively rustic_ furniture. Crowley had chosen their rental carefully, knowing that the antique charm of this one would win Aziraphale over immediately. 

Crowley could hear him as he arranged their bags in the bedroom. He smiled to himself. 

“Oh, dear, this is just wonderful,” Aziraphale said, settling down into the little kitchen with a steaming cup of Earl Grey.

“I’m glad you like it,” Crowley said, roughly slumping down into one of the dining table chairs and grinning.

Aziraphale looked over his warm mug, so many questions playing in his mind.

“Festivities will start in a couple hours,” Crowley began, looking down at his big watch, “What say you finish up your tea and come to bed for a bit?”

“Festivities?” Aziraphale asked, watching Crowley get up and slink out of the kitchen. He didn’t need to see his face to know that the demon was grinning mischievously.

The angel finished up his tea and washed up his mug. He found his way to the bedroom, where Crowley was sprawled out on the bed. The room was quaint, with a charming quilt on the bed, a wrought-iron bedstead, a cozy rug on the floor. Light crept through the gossamer window treatments. Aziraphale sat lightly as he could on the edge of the bed before curling up next to his partner. Crowley’s lean arm snaked around him and drew him close.

“Crowley, I must say, I’m absolutely dying to know why we are here,” Aziraphale said, resting his cheek on the demon’s chest.

“We’re here to have some fun, angel,” Crowley said with an audible grin, “Good, old-fashioned fun, with the emphasis on _old_.”

They cuddled in bed and the sun rose higher in the sky. Aziraphale almost swore that he could hear distant music.

“That’ll be them,” Crowley said, stretching his arms above his head and sitting up.

“That’ll be who?” Aziraphale asked, sitting up as well.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Crowley began, “Now, care to get into costume, angel?”

“Costume?” Aziraphale asked, eyes widening.

“Oh, yes!” Crowley exclaimed, rising from the bed to rifle through his bag.

He produced a white cloth bundle and set it on the bed, looking at the angel expectantly. 

“Now, run along and go get changed,” he said indulgently.

Aziraphale wore a look of surprise, but took the mystery garment and filed off to the washroom. He could feel at least a pair of shoes hidden in the folds of the cloth. Crowley set about getting changed as well, producing a similar black garment from his bag. He donned black robes. They flattered his tall, slim shape, bunched and low at the neck with sweeping bell sleeves. He produced a crude braided black leather belt from his bag and cinched it tight around his waist. He sat in front of the vanity and set about braiding his long curls in the mirror.

“Crowley, my dear, is this really necessary?” Aziraphale called from the washroom, his voice muffled.

“_Yes_, angel,” Crowley replied with mock annoyance, “Would I have gone to all this trouble if it weren’t strictly necessary?”

“Wily serpent,” Aziraphale murmured from behind the washroom door.

With the fronts of his hair braided and joined at the back to keep it from his face, Crowley placed atop his head a crown of flowering ivy. It had taken a minor miracle to keep it fresh in his bag. He tied up his flat sandals with long black leather strips, crisscrossing up his slender calves. The robe covered most of the straps, reaching down low on his calf, with the fabric doubling over a long slit at the front for mobility.

At long-last, Aziraphale emerged from the washroom in his white robes. Crowley turned around to gaze at him and for moments, they sat in silence, taking one another in. Aziraphale’s robe was tied loosely below his stomach with a tan leather belt. Crowley had given him more modest sandals, matched in tan leather and considerably less strappy than his own. Crowley gazed at him with yellow serpentine eyes somewhere between hungry and awe-struck. The angel looked radiant, if a little bashful. He looked like a painted angel of old; voluptuous and creamy white and blush pink, with lovely blond curls and a modest expression on his full lips.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale took in the sight that was Crowley. His plaited hair, topped with an immaculate crown of ivy. His slender form draped in black, the bell sleeves accentuating his slim wrists, the low neck revealing his prominent collarbone. He looked like a carved deity. 

Crowley stood up and walked to his bag, retrieving one more miraculously-preserved crown, this one of pale pink primrose with vibrantly green, waxy leaves. He placed it atop the angel’s head carefully.

“The finishing touch,” he said, leaning back to look at Aziraphale, “You look beautiful, angel.”

“Crowley, you look… Stunning,” Aziraphale marveled.

“It’s May Day, angel,” Crowley said, “That’s why I’ve brought you here. They celebrate it the old way, or close to it.”

“May Day?” Aziraphale gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth.

Over the years, Aziraphale had been present at many May Day celebrations, though not to revel. It was a pagan fertility festival, after all. Aziraphale had always been in attendance to be sure that things never got too far out of hand, and to perhaps secure a few souls for Heaven in the hungover aftermath of it all.

“Yes, angel, May Day,” Crowley drawled with a crooked grin, “I thought you might like to actually celebrate it for once, seeing as we’re on our own side now.”

Aziraphale got a nervous, giddy look on his face.

“Well, yes, I’ve been to May Day festivals, but never to celebrate,” he said, almost breathlessly.

“I thought you’d appreciate the theatrics and pageantry of it all,” Crowley said, seizing the angel’s shoulder gently and fixing him with a heated gaze, “and, of course, the traditional symbolism.”

Aziraphale felt a chill run down his spine.

“Ah, yes, the symbolism of it,” Aziraphale repeated meekly.

Crowley unexpectedly let go of the angel and returned to the mirror. He snapped his fingers and a pair of long curling ram’s horns emerged from the sides of his head, underneath the crown of ivy. Aziraphale gasped. Crowley turned to face him once more. The horns were a pale, infinetesimally translucent blond color, with natural dark bands here and there. They shined in the light of day. 

“What’s the matter? Don’t like them?” he asked.

“Oh, no, they’re quite lovely. I’m just… surprised is all,” Aziraphale stammered.

Truthfully, Aziraphale had expected Crowley to have horns back in The Garden, at least from the gossip of fellow angels. He had never actually seen the demon don a pair of horns before this very moment. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat, stopping any words that might have passed between them. Crowley was normally an imposing figure, but the combination of his unhidden golden eyes and new shining horns was positively otherworldly.

“Lots of folks in animal masks today, angel,” Crowley said, “You may want to get with the program.”

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale replied, snapping his fingers lightly.

A dainty pair of antlers sprouted from Aziraphale’s blond head as Crowley watched in amazement. They weren’t so large as to be ostentatious, and they suited the angel well. A few small flowers bloomed on the antlers, soft white against the lush pink of his primrose crown. He gave Crowley a questioning glance. The demon blinked a few times before responding.

“You always have had a flair for the dramatic,” the demon teased, eliciting a surprised look from the angel, “They look great. Let’s go.”

Aziraphale was shocked to see Crowley leave the little cottage without glasses to hide his eyes. However, once he saw the people filtering into the town square, he realized that the two of them were not the spectacle that he had initially thought. The townspeople wore masks and headdresses, face paint and horns, garments of cotton and leather and lace.

“Oh, this is delightfully pagan, my dear,” Aziraphale beamed, holding on to Crowley’s arm.

“Oh, it’s only getting started, angel,” Crowley replied with a smirk.

Children danced around the maypole, brightly-colored streamers in their wake, singing in their high, sweet voices. Nearby, a small band played. There were hand drums, a fiddle, a concertina, a guitar, an upright bass, and a jaws harp. Different people stepped up to sing now and again. For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale and Crowley blended right in; two supernatural beings in a sea of delighted humans paying homage to supernatural beings.

There were two young women bedecked in feathers like a jay and a raven serving drinks at a small wooden booth. Nearby, a man in white bull headdress was preparing meat for the fire later in the day. All around people were laughing and dancing. Aziraphale was finally beginning to understand the joy and attraction of the holiday.

Crowley had always loved May Day. Any kind of pagan festival, really. But May Day was among his favorites. He had seen it all the way from the days of ritual sacrifice up until modern times. The humans in this village certainly had a flair for pagan idolatry.

Aziraphale laughed as he watched a burly man dressed as the traditional hobby horse chase young women around the square. The hobby horse gnashed and snapped its wooden jaws as the large man lifted the wide skirt of the costume to capture the young women underneath.

A tall, slim man that some identified as the mayor of the village capered about as the teaser, with a sickle in one hand, wearing a floral dress and a long, dark wig. He laughed an infectious, girlish laugh as he jigged about, bridging the gap between masculine and feminine.

There was an older gent all bedecked in leaves, with his face and beard painted green. He sipped his ale placidly, knowing eyes sweeping over the scene. Aziraphale had always had a certain soft spot for old Jack-In-The-Green and bought him his next pint. The Green Man eyed Aziraphale’s antlers and gave an appreciative tip of the head.

Crowley preferred Punch the fool, shrieking with laughter as he bumbled about, smacking people’s rears comically, falling on his own. Physical comedy was a great weakness of the demon’s.

They looked like two distinctly opposing versions of Pan. Crowley the lean, sly mischievous forest spirit awaiting lost humans with his sinister curling horns, and Aziraphale the chubby, bright eyed merry-maker, helper to those lost in the woods, blue eyes shining and antlers blooming with pale blossoms.

As they stood in line for skewers, a young couple approached them. They were not from the village, but had traveled there for the May Day festivities. The young man, who sported a long, goat-like beard, complimented Crowley on his contact lenses, much to the demon’s amusement. Likewise, the young woman, whose eye makeup had been done to resemble a doe, was admiring Aziraphale’s antlers. Little did they know, they’d just been chatting with an angel and a demon while waiting for kebabs.

They found a bench in the shade, where Aziraphale began to eat his kebab. Crowley was nursing a dark ale, leaned back on the bench with one arm around the angel's shoulders. The strains of “John Barleycorn” came from the nearby troupe of musicians.

“What say you? Is May Day living up to all your expectations?” Crowley asked, eyes sweeping over the revelry before him.

When Aziraphale turned to him, Crowley was momentarily blinded by his beauty. Aziraphale, his fair skin shining in the sun, blue eyes radiant, his soft body silhouetted by the lovely white robe. He remembered the wall. He remembered Eden. Had he not given the angel his crown of flowers, he would’ve been convinced that the primroses had simply blossomed in his loving, glowing presence.

“Oh, Crowley, I’m having such fun!” Aziraphale beamed, scooting closer to the demon on the bench, “Thank you for… Putting all of this together. I never thought I’d get to celebrate something like this.”

Crowley leaned forward as though to kiss the angel, darting away at the last moment to sneak a piece of chicken off of his skewer. Aziraphale gasped, only slightly affronted.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Crowley replied, white teeth gleaming, “It’s about time!”

He leaned back on the bench again and brought the mug of ale to his lips. Aziraphale thought of some of Crowley’s reminiscent looks throughout the ages. Eden. Golgotha. Ancient Greece. They all paled in comparison to the Crowley of the now. He was smiling, sitting in the sun in a verdant green space. Even the curved ram’s horns suited him, somehow still managing to augment his attractiveness, framing his obscenely-defined cheekbones. The braids softened Crowley's look considerably, giving him a soft, feminine aspect. 

_This is even better than the garden,_ the angel thought.

It would be a lie to say that the angel and the demon abstained from their miraculous magic on this day. Aziraphale was augmenting his sleight of hand tricks with small miracles and refilling plates and glasses while others weren’t looking. It was too much fun. He didn’t want it to end for anybody. He had amused a group of children with coin tricks, much to Crowley’s delight. Aziraphale was shocked that Crowley tolerated it, even laughing loudly when the children were dumbfounded. The angel knew he’d never admit it, but the demon did seem to have a soft spot for children.

Crowley, meanwhile, was up to some fun tricks of his own. He was changing his appearance and body language slightly, appearing one moment more masculine, one moment more feminine. He bewildered and beguiled innocent onlookers with brief glances just for the sake of his own amusement. At one point, the burly man in the hobby horse lifted the dramatic skirts of his costume to attempt to trap Crowley underneath.  
“Hold your horses, man!” Crowley bellowed, turning around right as he was about to get captured.

The gent stilled and dropped the skirts. He could’ve sworn the redhead had been a woman a moment ago.

Crowley began to laugh and approached the man for an embrace. The burly man was at once relieved and confused, laughing along with Crowley and then cantering off in another direction once it was clear that there were no hard feelings.

Near sunset, the mayor, still dressed in his long wig, gave a rousing speech about the coming summer, asking that the gods bestow upon them a bountiful harvest, that the land be fertile. He gestured with his short sickle in one hand, and with a sheaf of wheat in the other. This, of course, was all performative, as this particular village hadn’t been of the agrarian variety for a few centuries. Aziraphale still thought it wonderful and clapped heartily once it was over. Crowley’s arm was around his waist, the demon smiling warmly down at him.

Crowley’s mind wandered during the speech. His arm was slung low around the angel, and his bare wrist was pressed to his side. With every little shift, Crowley felt just how thin the fabric of Aziraphale’s robes were. This was a rare thing, indeed. Usually with Aziraphale, there were layers upon layers of clothes between them. As Aziraphale moved, Crowley could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the soft pudge of his hip that he so longed to squeeze. Crowley regained control by focusing once again on the mayor’s address.

The chasing of the hobby horse and slapstick of Mr. Punch gave way to little bonfires as the sun went down. At first, the music was lively and all were dancing, the angel and the demon included. The band ripped out lively jigs and reels. Aziraphale raised the hem of his robe a little as he moved, giving Crowley a tantalizing peek at his shapely calves. Crowley too was dancing sinuously, his movements a blend of masculine and feminine. The mayor, in particular, took mental note of Crowley’s appearance and movements for his own performance as the teaser at next year’s May Day festival.

Crowley and Aziraphale joined hands and danced together, and when separated, were dancing very near to one another. Aziraphale was keenly aware of the firelight and how it threw the features of Crowley’s face into sharp relief. He was almost frighteningly attractive. Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley's neck, feeling Crowley's hands wander to his waist and settle there as they swayed. Crowley's eyes gleamed and his affectionate smile was quickly melting Aziraphale from the inside out. 

The tempo of the songs slowed for a bit. Crowley and Aziraphale sat on a log sipping mead, sitting so close that they were practically on top of one another. Each had a bowl of hearty rabbit stew. Aziraphale was sighing as he ate, clearly enjoying the rustic fare. Crowley ate a bit and then passed his bowl to Aziraphale.

“Oh, this is just marvelous,” the angel practically moaned, lifting the spoon to his lips.

After the stew, a large ceramic platter was sent around, piled high with honey cakes. They were dense and sticky. Aziraphale and Crowley took one each, with Aziraphale finishing his and Crowley hand-feeding the angel his own. After Aziraphale had taken it from his fingers in a few enraptured bites, Crowley sucked away the sticky honey left behind. Aziraphale felt a warm twinge of arousal spreading throughout his body as he watched the demon in profile, absently sucking the tips of his long, elegant fingers. 

As the band played and people sang, the angel slowly wandered onto the demon’s lap. Crowley wrapped one arm around the angel’s thick waist and rested his cheek against his shoulder. The heavy weight of Aziraphale on his lap was equal parts comforting and torturously arousing. The revelers danced and laughed, their frenzied shadows wavering in the shifting firelight. Crowley could feel the angel positively radiating joy. This filled him with a warm feeling, knowing that the trip was a success. There had been a bit of worry at the back of the demon’s mind over the past few weeks, thinking that Aziraphale might have possibly been offended or disinterested at the prospect of attending a May Day celebration. Judging by the rapt expression on the angel’s face, it was clear that this was not the case.

As the fires began to die down, men and women took turns jumping over it, something both Crowley and Aziraphale remembered from the fertility rites of old. The songs grew bawdier and the revelers became more drunk and less inhibited. Though they were outsiders in many respects, Crowley and Aziraphale were goaded to their feet to jump over the flames. Crowley went first, sailing over the blaze with ease to the cheers of the crowd. Fire held no worry for him. Aziraphale followed suit, gingerly pulling up his robes so as not to singe them. He wore a look of slight concern as he backed away to give himself a little more of a running start. The crowd whooped as he landed on the other side of the flames.

Crowley immediately took the angel into his arms, gripping him tightly at the waist and staring into his eyes. The demon swallowed hard as he felt his fingers sink easily into all of that delicious flesh. The crowd went a bit quieter and a chorus of “ooooooh” began to softly swell among them. Aziraphale felt his face flush. Crowley leaned in quickly and kissed him deeply. The kiss was crushing, leaving Aziraphale feeling breathless and singed, with Crowley’s body pushed against him with enough force to cause him to lean backward. The crowd around the fire went wild with shouts and bawls. The group had been thinning out for over an hour. It was clear that the night was drawing to a close.

“Let’s get back to the cottage,” Crowley said as he pulled away, nearly breathless.

Aziraphale nodded, wide-eyed and took Crowley’s arm. As they retreated from the warm glow of the fire, they heard a few more whoops and chants of encouragement from behind them. Crowley was grinning widely, making Aziraphale blush further. They both knew where this was going.

Crowley unlocked the door to the cottage hastily and walked inside. Aziraphale trailed after him by a few steps.

“Oh, darling, that was lov-” was all he could manage to get out before Crowley pushed him roughly against the closed cottage door. The angel was taken by surprise.

It was a rasping, desperate, open-mouthed kiss, Crowley’s tongue snaking both inside and around the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale held tightly to the front of the demon’s robes, trying to keep up with the frenzied kissing. Crowley pushed his hips forward hard, digging his hard cock into Aziraphale’s soft belly. The demon’s teeth scraped across his chin.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, tossing his head back.

Crowley took this as an excellent chance to go for the angel’s sensitive neck. He licked a line down one tactile neck vein and then began to suck on the skin to one side of Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple. The angel was pushing against him with flat hands, but was by no means pushing him away. Crowley’s hands were braced on either side of Aziraphale’s head possessively.

They were both a bit tipsy from a day of prolonged alcohol consumption, but Crowley swore he was becoming more drunk listening to the angel’s heady moans as he sucked and lightly bit his neck. His hot, heavy breaths were making Aziraphale squirm. He had a lovely neck, one that Crowley had always admired. It was nice to see him without a buttoned-up collar and a bowtie. It had been centuries since Crowley had seen him in a proper set of robes. He loved the way they loosely clung to Aziraphale’s curves, the way they showed a little leg, the way they offered up a bit of chest for his perusal when the angel leaned forward.

“Crowley, let’s go to bed!” Aziraphale whined, his hands once again fisted in the demon’s robes, “_Please_!”

Crowley lifted his head and rose up to full height again. His eyes flickered like the pagan fires of the evening.

“Of coursssse,” he hissed out.

Aziraphale hurried to the bedroom so that he could remove his belt and safely place his flower crown on the dresser. He had grown attached to it over the course of the day. Crowley sauntered in behind him, going straight to the bed to begin pulling back the quilt and sheets.

Aziraphale looked at himself in the mirror and began miracling away his lovely pale antlers. It was a matter of practicality, really. Antlers were pointed, and Aziraphale imagined that they could be dangerous in an intimate situation. He spied Crowley looking at him in the mirror.

“No horns?” Crowley asked, roughly removing his belt with a snap and tossing it across the bed.

“I don’t think so, dear,” Aziraphale replied.

He watched as Crowley rolled his neck and glared at Aziraphale hungrily as he hung his ivy crown on the bedpost.

“Aww, it’s part of the fun, angel,” he growled, running his tongue over the surface of his teeth, “I know I’m horny enough already, but let’s keep in costume.”

Aziraphale felt an erotic chill run through him. Crowley sat on the edge of the bed, hastily untying his sandals and kicking them off. He laid down flat on the bed and impatiently waited for his lover.

The angel looked back at himself in the mirror, and he willed his antlers to stop receding. They extended to their full height again and Aziraphale stood, smoothing his robe down his front.

“There’d better not be any underwear under that robe, angel,” Crowley warned.

“Oh, my,” Aziraphale said, covering his mouth, “I’m afraid there is.”

“You’d better remedy that,” Crowley murmured, fixing the angel with another frighteningly sexy glare.

Aziraphale stopped at the bedside, and modestly removed his underwear without lifting his robes too high. He stepped out of his underwear and began to crawl into bed when Crowley seized him by the forearm and pulled him onto his waiting lap. Aziraphale gasped.

“I’m very much in the mood,” the demon crooned.

“I can see that, dear,” Aziraphale managed, feeling the demon’s cock pressing up against him. Crowley lifted his hips, eliciting a little moan from the angel. The demon held him by his curvy hips, making sure he wouldn’t go anywhere. Aziraphale was unsurprised, but still scandalized, that Crowley hadn’t been wearing any undergarments.

“Show us what kind of Effort you’ve made,” Crowley whispered harshly.

Aziraphale flushed a little deeper as he lifted his robes. Crowley’s mouth began to water at the sight of Aziraphale’s golden pubic hair, at the soft, feminine sex beneath his precious belly.

“Oh, my,” Crowley said in a teasing, hungry tone, “how wonderfully _appropriate_ for a fertility festival, angel. I’m glad you’ve gotten so into the spirit.”

As Crowley continued to grind his hips upward, he began to feel a little patch of wetness forming on his robes underneath the angel. The robes were thin, and Crowley could feel the angel’s lips as he ground his cock against him.

“Oh, you’re ready to go, aren’t you?” he whispered, propping himself up on his elbows to meet the angel’s gaze.

Aziraphale’s eyes were clouded with lust, his lips slightly parted. He felt himself clench all over looking down at his wicked horned lover. Crowley began to lie back down flat.

“Give me a tasssste,” Crowley hissed hypnotically, nudging the angel forward by bending his knees.

Aziraphale obeyed and climbed carefully up his lover’s body, resting his calves lightly on either side of Crowley’s face and lowering his weight onto his thighs. He reached back and braced himself on the bed with his hands. Crowley inhaled deeply at the soft golden mound and opened his mouth to capture Aziraphale’s clit between his lips.

Aziraphale gasped and arched his back. Crowley’s hands sneaked up and grabbed at Aziraphale’s soft, sturdy thighs. His golden eyes were closed in pure bliss, tasting the salt and sweat and inherent sweetness of his lover. The angel began to rock his hips and gasp above him.

“Ah! Crowley!” Aziraphale called, “That feels divine!”

Crowley’s hands moved upward, pushing up Aziraphale’s robes and skating over his belly, feeling the soft skin, the lovely rounded shape, the sprinkling of downy blond hair. Crowley managed to open his eyes and looked upon the face of his partner, physically enraptured. He was sucking and licking gently at Aziraphale’s clit. He moaned before pulling his lips away.

“Let me inside,” Crowley said simply, his voice strained.

Aziraphale canted his hips forward and Crowley’s tongue glided over his lips. The surface was silky and wet, and Crowley groaned loudly on first contact. Aziraphale felt the curled horns pushing against the dimpled flesh of his thighs. Crowley’s clever tongue pushed in between the angel’s lips, inhumanly long and doing unspeakable things. The taste was so rich. Crowley sighed loudly. Aziraphale was crying out, grinding his hips down on to Crowley’s face. He opened his eyes and Crowley was looking up at him. This was what Aziraphale had expected The Fallen to look like. Wild hair, fiery, ravenous eyes, curling horns.

“Aah!” he called out, as Crowley moaned out underneath him, a response to the sudden tight pulsing of Aziraphale’s pussy.

“Tastes so sweet,” Crowley murmured wetly, lips moving against lips.

“Dear, I’m lightheaded. I must stop for a moment,” Aziraphale gasped.

The angel crawled backward and rested his weight on Crowley’s hips once more. The demon felt the wetness soaking through his robes. He grinned with a sudden idea.

“Why don’t you take a moment to worship at my altar, angel?” he growled.

“Oh, my!” Aziraphale gasped.

“Get on your knees,” Crowley said, beginning to sit up underneath him, “Be a good little angel for me.”

Aziraphale kneeled on the wooden floor as Crowley took to his feet. He lifted his robes high to reveal miles of slim, toned leg and his astonishingly flat torso. In between the two, of course, was his rampant cock, curved upward and appetizingly vascular. It was a threatening organ on a threatening supernatural being. Aziraphale was, of course, not frightened by Crowley in the least, but his current imposing state certainly did give the angel a thrill. Crowley reached one hand down to seize Aziraphale by the left antler. He pulled his face close to his cock.

“Go on, angel,” Crowley purred, “a little pagan idolatry never hurt anybody.”

Aziraphale shivered and opened his mouth, but Crowley couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed his cock in between the angel’s unready lips. Aziraphale nearly choked at the intrusion, but quickly found his pace. He took as much of Crowley’s hot cock as he could, his soft hands gripping the demon’s wiry thighs.

Crowley was impatient and in the mood to play rough. He grabbed the angel by both antlers and began to set the pace, fucking Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale took it in stride, causing Crowley to grin and push his hips forward in one of his dramatic poses. He pulled the angel hard and fast, delighting in the perfect suction Aziraphale was applying, the silky glide of his tongue. With a firm grip on both of his antlers, Crowley pulled him forward until his cock was entirely down the angel's throat. 

“A bit like handlebars, aren’t they?” he asked, meeting the angel’s desperate gaze, “Do you like to be on your knees before me, angel? Do you like to serve me?”

Aziraphale moaned, the vibrations burning through Crowley like dry kindling. Crowley reveled in the feeling of Aziraphale's hot, wet mouth around his cock. The angel inhaled Crowley’s unique scent as he buried his nose in his auburn pubic hair. He smelled smoky, outdoorsy.

_Like a forest spirit_, Aziraphale thought.

Crowley very nearly heard the thought in his own head, intimately connected as they were.

“Oh, the great god Pan,” Crowley chuckled darkly, remembering the title from a spine he’d seen in the bookshop, “Would you like that?”

Aziraphale’s eyes opened in surprise. Crowley grinned down at him.

“Do you want me to take you like an amorous forest spirit, angel? Take you against your will?” he hissed, “I bet you dooo.”

Aziraphale pulled back, Crowley’s cock coming out of his mouth with a soft, wet pop sound. He sat back on his thighs, and gazed up at the imposing demon. Aziraphale willed his antlers to disappear and Crowley was silent. His cock with glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the gossamer curtains. The demon looked down at Aziraphale, his full lips glistening, his eyes a very convincing semblance of well-acted fright. A devilish grin crossed Crowley’s lips.

“You do,” he hissed, mischief in his voice.

Aziraphale was still on his knees, but leaned back, placing his palms on the floor behind him. Crowley’s eyes widened he took in the sight. All Aziraphale. His tender chest, his soft belly, his vulva peeking out of his flossy blond pubic hair. His knees were shaking. Crowley began to salivate. 

“N-no!” Aziraphale whispered, eyes wide.

“Yes!” Crowley replied, vanishing his robes with a snap and lunging upon the angel on the hardwood floor.

He captured Aziraphale’s mouth hungrily in another rough, toothy kiss. The angel was trying to sit up, but Crowley held him down roughly by the shoulders. Aziraphale nearly made it up, but Crowley pushed him down hard onto his back.

“Ah-ah, there’s no escape,” he rasped against the angel’s lips.

Crowley used a knee to press Aziraphale’s thighs apart. He squeezed himself in between the angel’s soft thighs. He pushed his cock flush against Aziraphale’s slick vulva. Aziraphale tossed his head back and groaned at the hot throb of Crowley’s cock, but the groan was cut off by another rough kiss. The angel’s squirming underneath him was driving Crowley to the brink.

“Oh, sweet thing,” Crowley growled, pulling away from the kiss and glowering down at his prey, “Stop resisting me. Don’t you desire my cock?”

Aziraphale gasped sharply, and tried again to pull away. Crowley’s hand, quick as lightning, grasped his throat firmly. Aziraphale’s chest was heaving, a vision of angelic resistance. Aziraphale savored the feeling of being pinned to the cool hardwood floor. 

“You’ve come into the forest, you’ve wandered too far,” Crowley said, eyes flashing, “You’ve taken part in the rite. This is what you wanted.”

Here, Crowley ground his cock against Aziraphale’s wet pussy, and again, the angel gasped and tried again to pull away. The demon’s cock was hard as steel, hot and throbbing, and Aziraphale wanted it more than anything.

He grabbed Aziraphale roughly by the upper arm, pulling him to his unsteady feet. In a blink, Crowley was sat on the edge of the bed, with the angel sat in his lap. Crowley bent to capture one of Aziraphale’s rosy nipples in his mouth and began to suck cruelly. Aziraphale tried to pull away again, but was entangled in the demon’s arms. Crowley bit down on his nipple, eliciting a high, sharp cry from the angel, but quickly soothed the bite with a gentler sucking. Aziraphale's cry turned turned itself into little pleased mewls. Crowley switched his mouth to the other nipple, delivering another sharp bite.

“Demon!” Aziraphale cried, but his hips belied the scandalized sentiment. He rocked gently on Crowley’s lap. He reached up with both hands and held Crowley by his spiral horns and arched his back into the amorous onslaught.

Crowley released the angel’s tender nipple from his teeth and licked a quickly-cooling trail up to his neck. His tongue had become long and forked.

“Pretend all you want,” he rasped against the angel’s neck, “but we _both_ know that you want my cock inside you.”

“Ah!” Aziraphale cried, “Wicked satyr!”

“But since you want to hang on to my horns so badly, lie back, angel,” Crowley commanded, pushing Aziraphale off his lap and onto the bed.

As instructed, Aziraphale hastily laid down. Crowley slithered down onto the floor and once again pushed the angel’s knees apart, this time with his palms. He used his long forked tongue to lick the angel from the bottom of his pussy all the way up to his clit. His golden eyes were closed in concentration. Aziraphale watched with greedy eyes and reached up to hold on to Crowley’s horns. The demon looked up and met his eyes with a scorching glance. Aziraphale pulled him in as close as he could. Crowley’s arms circled his thighs possessively. He growled as he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, “More, please!”

Crowley’s tongue explored, tasted, teased. He grasped the angel’s thighs with an almost crushing strength. He felt Aziraphale’s hands on his horns, guiding him. He came up momentarily for air.

“You’re dripping,” he said in a gravelly voice. The angel gazed down at him, looking at his shining wet lips and chin. 

Crowley pushed in directly with two fingers, pistoning forcefully. Aziraphale moaned in a fantastically unbridled way, a way that made Crowley’s whole body tighten just a little. The angel didn’t even moan like that for crepes.

“I cannot wait to get my cock in you,” he groaned, lowering his mouth to Aziraphale’s clit once again.

Aziraphale now had one hand grasping tightly to one of Crowley’s horns, and the other wound into his fiery hair. He worried one of the braids with his thumb. The braids pulled Crowley's hair back so perfectly, showcasing his incredible bone structure. Fierce as he was, Aziraphale always thought of him as beautiful. Crowley added a third finger, dizzy with the heat and wetness and tightness of Aziraphale’s pussy. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away to watch his lover intently.

“Oh, just like that, dear!” he begged, “Precisely like that!”

Aziraphale’s back was arched, his body looking all soft and delectable in the moonlight. Crowley could see bruises blooming where he’d sucked and bitten his skin.

“Such a good cunt,” he hissed, “I think you might be ready for my cock. You’re so fucking wet, angel.”

Aziraphale’s brows were quirked, eyes closed as he appeared to drown in physical pleasure.

“But how do you want it?” Crowley mused cruelly, “Do you want to ride me and take your pleasure, milk my cock?”

Aziraphale’s hips jumped at the suggestion.

“Or with your legs over my shoulders, taking it deep inside you? Deep inside this sweet cunt?” Crowley continued, pushing his fingers in particularly deep at this remark.

Aziraphale practically sobbed underneath him.

“Or…” Crowley said, “Do you want to get fucked on your hands and knees, angel?”

“_Ooooh_!” Aziraphale moaned loudly, grasping the demon’s hair a bit harder.

“Do you want me to rut into you like a fucking animal?” Crowley asked, his voice gaining intensity, “Fuck you senseless and fill your pussy up? It is a fertility festival, after all.”

“Yes, please, Crowley, _please_!” Aziraphale begged, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. His grip loosened and Crowley took the opportunity to pull away.

He stood up, the very essence of a pagan deity with his wild hair, flashing eyes and hungry cock. He would have looked right at home painted into a scene on a Greek vase, or carved from marble. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Aziraphale listened and obeyed, scrambling to his hands and knees. Crowley ran a hand over his face and centered himself before looking too long. The angel looked like an entire meal with his round ass pushed up in the air. He looked incredible on all fours, his entire voluptuous figure showcased before the moonlit windows of the bedroom.

“Fuck,” the demon whispered under his breath, climbing onto the bed and settling on his knees behind his lover.

Crowley began to rub his hands up and down over Aziraphale’s sides, purposefully keeping his cock away to tease the angel. He felt goosebumps rise on his partner’s skin from the soft touches.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “Just look at you. So ready. So willing. So _needy_.”

“Please…” Aziraphale whimpered from beneath him.

“Oh, the rites of May Day,” Crowley mused, “Your pussy looks especially ready for me tonight, angel.”

Crowley leaned forward and began to guide his cock with one hand. Aziraphale cried out loudly as he felt himself being opened up.

“Oh, feels ready, too,” he continued, “Feels like you’re positively starving for my cock. You’re pulling me in. Swallowing me up.”

Aziraphale began to push his hips backward to meet his lover.

“You’re soaked,” Crowley said, his voice sounding tighter than before, continuing his agonizingly-slow entrance.

“Please, Crowley!” the angel begged.

Aziraphale couldn’t see, but Crowley’s jaw was fiercely set and his eyes were nearly rolling back in his head. The squeeze around his cock was so intense that the demon needed absolute concentration. He grunted, feeling a firm shake travel up from his tailbone all the way to his scalp.

“I’ve been waiting for this for weeks, you know, since I planned this trip,” he managed, still pushing his hips forward agonizingly slowly.

Aziraphale’s mouth was open in a silent “O,” unable to form coherent words.

“And then all long day today, angel,” Crowley gritted, “Seeing you in your robes, in your crown, watching you, watching you.”

Crowley swallowed with difficulty, his mouth suddenly dry. His hands trembled in their tight grip on Aziraphale’s plush hips.

“Satan’s sake, the second you came out in your robes, I wanted to tear them off you. You looked delicious,” the demon continued, “And having you on my lap by the fire, wondering what kind of Effort you’d made, thinking about how I was going to fuck you sideways. But that was nothing to when you jumped over the fire. You, _you participated._”

A pained gasp broke from Aziraphale’s lips, but the pain came from the expectation, the suspension of pleasure, the agonizing pace that Crowley was setting.

“I brought you here, to a pagan festival, and you were in it,” Crowley said, “You were in it from moment zero. The robes, the mead, the song and dance. But when you jumped over the fire. Oh, angel. Taking part in a pagan fertility rite. I knew I had to get you back here and make you mine right then. Such a naughty thing for an angel to do.”

Here, Crowley’s svelte hips pushed flush against Aziraphale’s soft ass. Aziraphale cried out, and the arousal in his voice was unmistakable. His wet pussy gave a long, tight clench around Crowley’s member.

“Urgh,” Crowley grunted, his whole spine folding forward.

Aziraphale was panting underneath him, feeling the stead pulse of Crowley’s cock inside him. It was near-indescribable. Crowley began to rock his hips in extremely shallow-thrusts, barely pulling his cock out at all.

“Oh, angel… Do you feel that?” Crowley asked, low and sensuous, “Feels a bit different tonight.”

“It feels incredible,” Aziraphale replied, lowering himself from his hands to his elbows.

Crowley watched hungrily the stretch of his back, the soft roll of fat at each hip, the luscious fold of his shoulder blades. He felt compelled to bite and nip Aziraphale all over, lick him, taste him, still thinking of the lovely bite marks that he’d left on his neck and chest.

“You’re so wet, so slick, angel,” Crowley said, trailing his tongue down one of the angel’s soft shoulder blades, “But I can still feel your cunt gripping me, not wanting me to pull out.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, feeling himself tighten further at his partner’s filthy words.

Crowley began to trust harder, pulling out more than before. He bit down on the flesh between his angel’s shoulders firmly, but not too hard. Aziraphale pushed back against him.

“Dear, please!” Aziraphale begged.

“Please what?” Crowley gritted, pressing more kisses onto his back, his scorching lips leaving tantalizingly cooling marks all over.

“Please take me!” Aziraphale cried underneath him, “I’m begging you!”

“Oh, and you do beg so nicely,” Crowley replied, leaving one final audible smooch.

He began thrusting harder, still moderately paced as he straightened up his back.

“You want a proper fuck, do you?” he continued maliciously, “You want me to pummel this gorgeous little cunny you’ve given me?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale shouted, grasping the sheets with reckless abandon, trying and failing to change the rhythm by thrusting backward.

Crowley began to fuck Aziraphale in earnest, their flesh colliding with lascivious slaps. One hand remained in a crushing grip on the angel’s hip and the other had a rough handful of his ass. Aziraphale could feel every pulse of Crowley’s cock, and perhaps it was his imagination, he thought he felt every vein as well.

“Please touch me,” Aziraphale quietly begged, his cheek pressed hard into the sheets, “_Please_.”

Crowley let go of the angel’s ass and his hand snaked around Aziraphale’s soft belly. He began to stroke his clit with two fingers in tight, circular motions. He knew just how Aziraphale liked it, but he deigned to ask anyway.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Yes, dear, yes!” Aziraphale hissed, pushing his hips back and further in the air.

Crowley hummed in response, his arm comfortably braced between Aziraphale’s stomach and thigh, fingers hard at work, but in a meditative sort of way. He let go of the angel’s hip and splayed his palm on the small of his back. He pushed his palm downward, toward the nape of Aziraphale’s neck.

“I’d like to pull out and cum all over your back,” Crowley said harshly, “Absolutely soak you. Imagine it, angel, all pearly white and hot dripping down your skin. Painting you with my cum. Oh, you’d just be a vision.”

Aziraphale cried out and Crowley felt a trembling within him, another gradual increase in wetness. He was getting closer. Crowley swore that he’d never felt Aziraphale get so wet before.

“But that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” Crowley continued, “Being May Day and all. No, angel, I’m not pulling out for anything tonight. Gonna cum inside you. I can tell that’s what you want. I can feel it.”

“_Please!_” Aziraphale gasped underneath him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna give you all my cum. Give it to you ‘til you can’t take anymore, oh,” Crowley hissed, pausing to moan, “Give you so much that it’ll be oozing out.”

“_Crowley!_” Aziraphale exclaimed, somewhere between scandalized and ravaged.

The angel looked over his shoulder and found the sight of Crowley to be utterly arresting. His jaw was set tightly, but he was grinning, brows furrowed in concentration. The veins of his neck were straining as he rutted his hips like an animal. Aziraphale’s body was claimed by a shiver. He was close. He felt that fantastic heat that started deep in his belly and traveled downward. Crowley’s fingers on his clit felt almost indescribably wonderful, slick and never ceasing, never slowing, maintaining the perfect rhythm, the perfect amount of pressure. 

Crowley, meanwhile, was soaking in all of the angel’s little sighs and moans. It was music to his ears. Sometimes he couldn’t believe he was getting to do this, to pleasure Aziraphale without any worry of retribution. This was one of those moments. When Aziraphale looked over his shoulder, they locked eyes. Crowley gazed at him for a second before sticking out his forked tongue, first flickering it lewdly, then lolling it from side to side. He felt Aziraphale’s pussy squeeze his cock tight in reward.

“Crowley, I want to see you,” Aziraphale begged, “Please, I want to see you, I’m so close.”

Crowley knew it was his wicked tongue that had done the job. He abruptly stopped thrusting, his cock only halfway inside. He knew the angel would find this maddening. His fingers had stilled and moved away from Aziraphale’s clit, instead cupping his soft underbelly.

“How do you want me?” the demon whispered.

After all, Crowley had had his fun. The day had gone swimmingly. No. Perfectly. Better than he ever could have ever imagined or asked for. He wanted to be sure that his angel had everything he could’ve asked for, too.

“I want to lie on my back,” Aziraphale said, panting, “I want to wrap my legs around you, dear. I want you _close_ to me.”

“Anything, angel,” Crowley simply replied, pulling his cock out with a pained grunt. He watched as a silvery liquid strand connected tip of his cock to Aziraphale’s vulva. It was beautiful.

Aziraphale gasped at the retreat and gingerly began to turn onto his side. He stopped to readjust the pillows that would be behind his head. Crowley tried to hide his indulgent smile. They were fucking, after all. There would be time for indulgent smiles later.

“Fussy angel,” he muttered warmly.

“Bratty demon,” Aziraphale replied, as he settled back onto the pillows, “Hasty demon.”

“Sit up,” Crowley quickly said.

“Must I, dear?” Aziraphale asked, having just found the perfect angle.

“I want you to _watch_,” Crowley said with gravity.

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide and he obeyed, sitting up with a little difficulty. He watched over the curve of his soft stomach, spellbound, as Crowley guided his cock against his lips and pushed inside, disappearing inch by inch. He felt the defined ridge of Crowley’s cock head breaching his lips and rubbing against his g-spot. Aziraphale’s head began to tip back with the sensation of being filled up. Crowley’s cock was just perfect for him, just enough length, just enough girth to stretch him just right. After all, Crowley’s cock was made for Aziraphale.

“_Watch_, angel,” Crowley gently commanded, his voice nearly hypnotic.

Aziraphale opened his eyes again, watching carefully until Crowley’s pubic bone was pushed flat against his pussy. Crowley shuddered at the sensation. Aziraphale was so tight and so hot, and his pussy was so welcoming tonight, practically pulling him in.

“_Joined_,” Aziraphale whispered in awe.

Crowley was right. It did feel a little different tonight. Aziraphale was cognizant of how perfectly the two fit together. He felt his insides tingling slightly, as though Crowley’s cock was tinged with dilute hellfire. It was marvelous. Aziraphale began to gently settle onto his back as Crowley held perfectly still, eyes closed, one hand lightly clasped over his own mouth.

“Oh, darling,” was all the angel could muster under the circumstances, “So full, just splendid.” His voice was dreamy, enraptured.

Crowley opened his eyes and slowly lowered himself down, pressing his lips to the angel’s in a deep kiss. Aziraphale lifted his hips slightly and wrapped his soft thighs around Crowley’s waist. Crowley groaned into the kiss and Aziraphale would’ve sworn that he felt the demon’s cock grow even harder. Crowley began to thrust experimentally as they kissed, Aziraphale arching and drawing in a deep breath underneath him.

“Inside you,” Crowley whispered lightly against the angel’s lips, continuing the same rhythm.

Aziraphale gasped softly in response, one soft palm resting on Crowley’s upper arm, the other twisted in the sheets.

Crowley began to thrust deeper, feeling every inch of Aziraphale’s insides. He sighed tremulously, still relatively subdued in his movements. Crowley had forgotten what it felt like to belong anywhere until the first time he was inside Aziraphale. No matter the configuration of their Efforts, he was always overtaken by the intense feeling of belonging. It was overwhelming for a demon.

“Oh, angel, it does feel different tonight,” Crowley sighed, “I feel everything. I can feel how much you want me. Can you feel how much I want you?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale hissed, pushing his head back against the pillows, “So much, dear.”

“Can you feel how hot and hard I am for you?” Crowley continued, his voice becoming low and wicked again, "How ready I am? How ready I am to cum inside you and make you mine?"

“_Yes_,” Aziraphale breathed, barely over a whisper, falling steady into rhythm with his lover.

“Because I can _feel_ you, Aziraphale,” the demon said.

The angel cried out at hearing his proper name on his lover’s lips. So often, he was angel and so rarely was he Aziraphale.

“I can feel how much you _want_ me, how much you _need_ me to satisfy you,” Crowley said, “But it’s different tonight. I can feel so much more. Every little movement, every little ripple, every little thing. It’s like your body is telling me. Like it’s speaking to mine. Do you think it was the fire, angel?”

Crowley began to intensify his movements, focusing his momentum. His thrusts were deeper, faster, rocking Aziraphale underneath him. The angel panted in time, opening his eyes to look at Crowley. He was fearsome, his golden eyes narrowed, his long curly hair disheveled, his horns equal parts alarming and arousing. Aziraphale felt like he was playing with fire by letting the demon take him, have him.

“Do you think we were affected by the rite?” Crowley inquired, his hands one at a time moving to grip the angel’s soft chest. He kneaded the flesh he found there. His fingers brushed playfully the angel’s punished nipples.

“Crowley, I’m so close!” Aziraphale cried underneath him, “Harder, _please_! I _beg_ of you!”

Crowley began to fuck Aziraphale full-tilt, his hips setting a punishing rhythm, eyes nearly rolling as Azraphale’s wet pussy squeezed his cock in a desperate biological Morse code. _Take me, take me, make me yours. _

“Touch yourself,” Crowley gritted out.

As instructed, the angel reached down between them and began to stroke his clit. He gasped as he involuntarily clenched around Crowley’s cock, eliciting sharp sounds from both of them.

“I think it was the festival, the rites, whatever,” Crowley panted, “You’re insatiable tonight, angel. I can feel it in your sweet, dripping cunt. I can tell what you want, but I’d much rather you tell me.”  
Aziraphale was so close. His hips were bucking with tiny electric jolts as he approached the precipice of his pleasure.

“I need you, Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“What do you need, angel?” Crowley asked in a raised voice.

“I need you to finish inside me!” Aziraphale replied, his voice breaking in desperation.

“That’s right, angel! That’s right. You want my seed,” the demon growled, “You want me to put it deep inside you.”

Aziraphale threw his head back and began to stammer in a high, breathy tone. Crowley knew he was close, and knew just want to do. He moved his hands to grip the angel’s ample hips and lifted him slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, feeling the shift of all those tight muscles inside his beloved angel constricting deliriously around him. 

“_Yessss_,” Crowley hissed, “You want my infernal seed. Oh, angel, that’s just _filthy_. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The demon was putting up a convincing front, but he felt his reserve quickly crumbling as he looked upon his partner. Aziraphale had his head tossed back onto the pillows, blond curls all mussed, alabaster skin besmirched with blooming bite marks here and there, lips parted making such lovely sounds only for his lover. The demon’s eyes scanned down his body, past his chest, past the cruel bite marks, past the hypnotic bounce of his soft stomach, all the way down to Aziraphale’s fingers, wet and shining and hard at work rubbing his clit, getting him there. Crowley made a vague sound of concentration and swallowed hard.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he repeated with a chuckle, “But you will soon. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. I can feel your pussy aching for it, Aziraphale. Aching for my seed…”

Here, Aziraphale’s eyes opened wide before he clenched them tightly shut, arching his back and letting out a cry of unmistakable, overwhelmed pleasure. Crowley quickly slowed his thrusts to a stop, as the angel often asked him to hold still right as he came so he could ride out his orgasms without being jostled. Aziraphale was still crying out, high and bright, almost sobbing, gasping, trying to form words. The tight clenches of his cunt around Crowley’s desperate cock were causing the demon’s entire body to rhythmically jolt. He felt as though he might discorporate on the spot. The pleasure was too much. His angel was too beautiful.

Aziraphale clenched tightly and his eyes opened again, as Crowley felt a warm gush of fluid around his cock, notably more than usual. The demon's mouth fell open and his felt his balls tighten. Aziraphale’s muscles were still clenching around Crowley, reducing the angel to a panting mass on the mattress. The demon felt like every fiber of his being was stretched tight.

“Fuck me, angel,” Crowley breathed, staring down at his partner, blinded by his beauty, “That was bloody brilliant. Felt like a good one.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said numbly, as though he were floating several inches above his own body, “Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.”

“Yes, angel?” Crowley said, trying to disguise the tightness in his voice. He desperately wanted to finish, particularly after that beautiful, earthshaking display.

“Crowley, dear, that was _marvelous_,” the angel replied, “Please don’t stop.”

“Sure you’re ready?” Crowley asked, his gaze momentarily soft.

“Dear, you’re absolutely right,” Aziraphale replied, his eyes hooded and his voice suddenly a bit more husky than before, “I’m positively aching for you to cum inside me.”

“Hng!” Crowley choked, surprised. He felt his cock twitch intently. So did Aziraphale, causing him to arch and grin.

“_Please_, dear,” Aziraphale begged sensually, almost petulantly, “Fill me up. Give me your _seed_.”

“Grrk,” Crowley choked as he was subsumed by a full-body quake.

He pulled his cock out and thrust it back in with stunning force. Aziraphale gasped sharply underneath him.

“Yes, dear… Just like that!” Aziraphale encouraged, “Please, do give it to me!”

Crowley responded with strangled growls, feeling the grasp of Aziraphale’s even slicker walls. He was bracing his weight, leaning forward with his face and body close to his angel. His head was bowed with concerted effort.

“Gonna give it you,” Crowley said desperately.

“Please!” Aziraphale cried, staring up at him, “Need you!”

Crowley raised his head to look at Aziraphale. His eyes were almost entirely golden, his black pupils mere slits. The veins in his neck were corded, hair sticking to his temples with sweat. Aziraphale stared back up at him, blue eyes wet and twinkling, cheeks flushed the most gorgeous shade of pink the demon had ever seen. He reached up and put his arms around Crowley’s neck, feeling the hard brush of his horns as he rode out the savage onslaught of burning, pleasurable thrusts.

“Gonna cum!” Crowley warned.

“Yes!” Aziraphale encouraged.

“Gonna cum in your belly,” Crowley repeated hoarsely, "Make you mine!"

Crowley threw his head back with a roar. Aziraphale felt the first surge of hot fluid as the demon’s thrusts began to slow and normalize. Aziraphale smoothed his hands down his lover’s chest, gasping. Crowley looked back down at him, his eyes still communicating wordless urgency.

Aziraphale thought it would end, but the gushes of hot semen just kept coming. His insides went from warm to molten hot. He was sure he’d never taken so much of Crowley before.

When it was finally over, Crowley pulled out gently, twinging from the heightened sensitivity of his softening cock. Aziraphale watched, panting earnestly as the demon rolled his neck fluidly and the horns shrunk back into his skull and disappeared. Crowley collapsed onto his side next to Aziraphale with all the grace of a wet rag. His eyes were closed, heart hammering from the exertion. The demon’s cheek rested on Aziraphale’s soft shoulder, and his hand creeping to rest on the angel’s belly.

Aziraphale turned his head to press a kiss onto his damp forehead. Crowley opened his eyes, staring as if the world was still coming back into focus.

“Are you quite alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, angel,” he murmured, “That was really something. You really are a stunner.”

Aziraphale smiled, flattered.

“You’re an incredible lover, dear,” he replied, “And you’re right. I think it was the fire.”

Crowley slowly broke out into a grin and pressed a kiss onto his shoulder.

“Can you lift your head? I think I should like to turn on my side,” Aziraphale asked.

“Sure, angel,” Crowley said, lifting his head, feeling his strength slowly coming back. He was certain he had never cum so hard or so much before in his entire existence.

Aziraphale rolled over, turning his back to Crowley, who snuggled in close with surprising immediacy for one so shagged out. The demon gestured with one finger for the sheets and quilt and cover them, and the bedclothes followed suit obediently. He wrapped one arm around Aziraphale’s thick waist, idly stroking a hand over his belly until they both fell asleep.

The following morning, Crowley awoke to soft light filtering in through the gossamer curtains. Aziraphale was awake next to him, still naked, much to his surprise, reading.

“Morning,” Crowley managed in a gravelly voice.

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale nearly sing-songed.

“What time is it, angel?” Crowley asked, shielding his eyes with his forearm and flopping onto his back.

“Just shy of half-past eight,” Aziraphale replied, barely looking away from his book.

“Gotta get cleaned up soon,” Crowley said, his level of urgency not increasing.

“Now, why ever would we do a thing like that, dear?” the angel asked, finally looking away from his book.

“Go down the village pub. They do a big breakfast to close the festival,” Crowley said, peeking out from beneath his forearm to watch Aziraphale’s eyes light up.

“Breakfast, you say?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes, angel. Full English,” Crowley replied, his tone becoming mischievous, “Come for the festival, stay for the bacon and beans.”

This was so easy that it couldn’t even really be considered a temptation.

“Oh, well, that does sound lovely,” the angel replied, already sitting up from the pillows.

They were in and out of the shower surprisingly fast. Since May Day was over and all had emerged from the woods, so to speak, the pair decided to don their usual attire. Crowley dressed in a sleek but thin black sweater, sunglasses shielding his eyes. Aziraphale was in his usual state of overdress, complete with bowtie. They walked arm-in-arm down to The Hare & Hound.

Once inside, the light was pleasantly dim and warm. The whole structure was old and wooden, homey and comfortable. It appeared that all the revelers from the previous day were there, but no longer in ethereal costume. Crowley and Aziraphale assumed their places in a small corner snug. Aziraphale ordered tea, Crowley ordered a coffee. Soon, two steaming plates were set down in front of them, piled high with the classics. Bacon, sausages, black pudding, fried eggs, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast. Crowley quickly decided that he would pass off the vast majority of his plate to Aziraphale.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said, breaking him from his thoughts on the plate in front of him.

The demon looked down as Aziraphale reached across the table and gently placed one soft hand on top of his own.

“Crowley, this has been a perfect trip,” he said sincerely, locking eyes with him despite the dark lenses, “Thank you, my dear. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a wonderful time. Truly. It was perfect.”

Crowley stroked the back of the angel’s palm with the pad of his thumb and smiled at him.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, angel,” he replied warmly, before his tone became mischievous, “After all, a little pagan idolatry never hurt anybody.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest Merrymakers and Revelers,  
Did you enjoy the festival? Did you commit to the fire leap unscathed? Did you emerge from the woods the same person you were when you went in?  
I hope you enjoyed this fic - I know it was quite long! I hope you all found it worth the Effort ;)  
Until next time,  
\- AF -


End file.
